


Serendipity

by Senor_Sparklefingers



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Apologies for the giant spaces between paragraphs apparently I'm still garbage at formatting, Coffee date, M/M, Meet-Cute, Oneshot, The Hallmark movie au nobody asked for but y'all are getting anyway, apologies to the rest of the m9, archivist Caleb, at least for now, no dead wives only happy couples here, prince Molly, who are sir-not-appearing-in-this-fic due to it just not making sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senor_Sparklefingers/pseuds/Senor_Sparklefingers
Summary: Caleb has moved to the capital of the Dynasty during a typical long, wet winter, and is looking for some direction in his life.Molly has only ever known the winters of the capital to be rainy, and is looking for an escape.It never snows in Rosohna, until of course it does.(a modern au)
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, Nott & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 12
Kudos: 92
Collections: Widomauk Winter Gift Exchange 2020





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SebGray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebGray/gifts).



> With continued love and gratitude to steelneena, the best beta and friend in the world.
> 
> My 2019 wm exchange gift for SebGray! I hope you like it!
> 
> With apologies to the Hallmark Channel and the Netflix Christmas cinematic universe. But when you make multiple royal christmas romances a thing, this sort of stuff happens.

Winter in Xhorhas was three things: it was long, it was dark, and it was wet. 

Two of those things made sense. Xhorhas was further north in Wildemount, so it naturally experience a darker winter, even without the use of magic to dim and block natural light in Roshona. And the absence of light created the illusion that the season was much longer than it actually was, though, again, being further north meant that winter temperatures lingered much longer than they would in parts of the Empire.

Naturally, given the seasonal conditions in the Dynasty, one would expect the Xhorhasian winter to involve a great deal of snow. And perhaps in the parts of the Dynasty that lay further to the north, closer to the Greying Wildlands, that held true. But not in Rosohna.

No, winter in Rosohna involved rain.

Lots and lots of rain. And, if the conditions were just right,  _ freezing _ rain.

In the two and a half months since Caleb had completed his move to the Dynasty, it had rained more often than not, to varying degrees. Most days, that meant there was essentially a thick, heavy mist that fell across the city like a shroud, cold and unpleasant. There had been a particularly nasty thunderstorm a few days ago, the lightning breaking through the perpetually dark sky and momentarily casting the city in an eerie glow. Beauregard had come home that evening soaked and furious, looking a bit like Frumpkin after getting stuck outside one night. It had been rather amusing, actually (though Caleb, valuing his life, had said nothing, simply getting Beauregard a towel and listening to her rant about the weather).

He liked the rather gloomy weather, all things considered. Yes, he’d had to invest in a new coat shortly after arriving, and more often than not he came home with his boots soaked all the way through to his socks, but the rain suited him. The sound of water gently tapping against the roof of the apartment he and Beauregard shared provided a nice tempo for reading, the slivers of light from the lamps outside reflecting off the splattered droplets on the window created the perfect atmosphere for curling up in a chair with a good book and an even better cat for company. And when the weather was bad, there wasn’t much to do but sit with Frumpkin and catch up on his always growing stack of novels, letting time fall away from him as he lost himself in the adventures and lives of people far more interesting than him.

“Oi, Caleb!”

Ah. Beauregard was back then. She’d been rather busy for the past few days, her attempts to establish a branch of the Cobalt Soul Research Conservatory in the Dynasty finally gaining traction after, as she put it, months of bureaucratic bullshit. He hadn’t seen much of her since she started spending the majority of her time in the Lucid Bastion, and while he considered her one of his closest friends, the silence and solitude had been welcome. He glanced away from his book (a fascinating mystery involving a detective duo and an oceanic cult), nodding at the doorway where Beauregard stood, soaked through once again, looking thoroughly unamused. He suspected that was her default expression these days.

“Hallo, Beauregard. How did it go meeting with the court today?”

Her glare deepened, if only for a moment, before she sighed, slumping against the doorway, giving him a small, tired smile. “Better. They’ve started processing the permits, there’s space in the palace near their own archives to get us started, the Conservatory has  _ finally _ stopped being dicks about sharing resources...honestly, I don’t understand why they’re so hesitant. They know the Soul is a neutral third party, and even if it wasn’t, the war’s been over for years now!”

“Yes, but the war went on for decades,” he responded, putting his book down. “Those are wounds that do not heal quickly, and both sides have long memories. It is no surprise that this is not the easy project you hoped it would be.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head of excess water droplets (for what little good it did) before flopping on the couch next to him. “I still think you should be coming with me to these things. You’re better at convincing people to do stuff.”

He smiled a little at that, the grin not quite reaching his eyes. “And that is exactly why I choose not to come with you, Beauregard. Besides, I am not affiliated with the Cobalt Soul. It is better that you at least start this without my assistance. I am here as moral support and as your future assistant librarian, nothing more.”

Beauregard shot him another glare. “Yeah, yeah, I know...too much politics for you, I get it. Still, this is gonna take a while...you have to do  _ something _ besides reading.” Her gaze softened a bit as she gave him a long look, stretching out on the couch as she did so. “You’re my friend, Cay. I appreciate you coming with me to help, and I get why you want to stay out of this part of things, but...you need to get out. Make some other friends,  _ do _ things. The whole point of you coming with me was to--”

“--Get a fresh start,  _ ja _ . I suppose you have a point,” Caleb admitted. It had been the whole reason he had agreed to come with Beauregard in the first place (ignoring the fact she had all but threatened him into helping her with her project). Since Nott and her family moved to the Coast, there had been nothing left for him in the Empire, nothing but regrets and bad memories and unwanted ties best left in the past. He had needed something new, something so far removed from his old life that he wouldn’t be haunted by his old life.

Maybe that was why he liked the wet, stormy winters of the Dynasty’s capital so much. Nothing about it was like the idyllic Empire winters of his youth. The endless, uninterrupted expanse of white, the snowflakes you could stand and catch on your tongue for hours, silence broken only by the laughter of playing children, evenings spent cuddled up with loved ones by the fire, cozy and secure and  _ happy _ ...no, none of that was found here in Rosohna. Not for him.

“Cay...Caleb. Oi, Caleb!!”

A sharp pain bloomed in his arm, and he was brought out of his thoughts by Beauregard smacking him on the shoulder, her eyes concerned and in conflict with her brusque, violent actions. 

“You were lost in your head again,” she said. “You alright?”

He was silent for a moment before nodding. “ _ Ja. _ I was just thinking, that’s all. I am sorry if I worried you.”

She snorted. “You always worry me. Good thing we’re friends. You with me now?” He nodded again. “Good, because I was  _ going _ to tell you that I heard about a job you might be suited for. Something to keep you busy until I finish establishing the Soul branch, you know?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Don’t give me that look, you don’t even know what it is yet!”

“Well? Tell me, what have you heard that would be, as you say, something I am suited for?”

She grinned at him. “So, apparently, the Bright Queen needs somebody to work the royal archives. Their last person quit and she’s struggling to find a decent replacement.”

That  _ did _ sound like something he was suited for. One of the reasons Beauregard’s offer had been so appealing was the possibility of accessing all the knowledge of the Dynasty. Centuries of history, undiluted by Empire propaganda...the inner workings of their unique schools of magic, their secretive religious practices...all that  _ knowledge _ …

It sounded too good to be true, which meant is probably was. Beauregard was still grinning at him, waiting for a response. Caleb stared at her for a moment longer. “What’s the catch, Beauregard.”

Beauregard’s smile faltered for an instant, just long enough for him to know that yes, this perfect job was too perfect. “What? No, there’s no catch!”

He continued to stare at her, waiting for her to break under his gaze. It took a minute or two longer than expected (he wasn’t surprised, she  _ was _ trained for this sort of interrogation), but eventually, she caved, slumping against the couch. “Okay, okay, so there  _ is _ a catch...the palace archives themselves aren’t super big, since most of their stuff is held at the Conservatory, so...the archivist…kiiiiinda has to do double duty as the crown prince’s tutor.”

Ah.

Well, that was quite the catch.

Everyone in the Empire was familiar with Crown Prince Lucien. The only son of the Bright Queen, heir to the throne of the Dynasty, he was handsome, charismatic, and a magnet for trouble. Lucien had been the favorite subject of the major tabloids for years. Not a day went by without there being some new rumor or talk of scandal with him at the heart of it. They ranged from the ludicrous yet simple (He’d ran away from home again! He’d fathered several bastards across the Dynasty! He’s made shady business deals and scammed his mother’s government!) to the wild and truly unbelievable (He joined a cult! He founded a cult! He’s been replaced by a doppelganger! He’s not actually a tiefling, the horns are fake!). They said he was spoiled, selfish, a fool, too brilliant for his own good, cruel and manipulative...it didn’t matter if the stories contradicted each other. If it was outlandish, if it sold papers, then Crown Prince Lucien was at the heart of it somehow.

Caleb didn’t believe a word of it. Tabloids were known to stretch the truth, to put it lightly, and the fact that one paper could put a story out and then immediately contradict it the next day didn’t do them any favors for credibility. Still, the fact that there were so many rumors and negative press surrounding the crown prince seemed to indicate that there was  _ something _ wrong with him. Perhaps he was simply a cruel fool, charismatic and manipulative. Perhaps he was brilliant but not when it came to people, and he had fallen in with a bad crowd.

Regardless, it sounded like being his tutor would be a nightmare.

Beauregard was still looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond.

“I...ah...that is quite a catch, Beauregard. Putting aside all the...stories about the prince, there is also the matter that I have never taught anyone before, nor do I have any professional training in that field. That alone would disqualify me from the position,  _ ja _ ?”

“Not necessarily,” she shrugged. “And don’t give me that ‘I’ve never been a teacher’ crap, I know you taught Nott magic, and you did a great job!”

“That does not make me qualified to teach a  _ prince _ , Beauregard.”

“No, but you’d still be good at it. Listen, he might be an ass, but you put up with me, how much worse could he be? Besides, this is only a temporary job, it’s not like you’d be stuck with him forever,  _ and _ you’d get access to their archives as well! I think you should give it a shot.” She grinned at him again. “Besides, you’d get to come with me to the palace and talk to the Queen and her council without any of that political bullshit you’re worried about attached. She’s actually pretty cool, for royalty.”

Caleb gave her a wry smile. “Beauregard, being the tutor to a prince is the very definition of political bullshit.”

“I’m not hearing a no there, though!”

He shook his head, chuckling softly. She was right, he hadn’t said no. The temptation of the Dynasty’s royal archives was too much for him to deny, and if he had to put up with an insufferable prince to get access, so be it.

As she said, it was only temporary.

\---

As far back as Mollymauk could remember, which admittedly wasn’t very far, it had never snowed in Rosohna.

Yasha had told him about what snow was like, having seen quite a bit of it in her travels outside the capital and towards the Wildlands. She made it sound like this incredible, magical thing, water freezing in midair and coming down soft and crystalline, no two flakes looking the same, blanketing the world in white, cold perfection. She told him stories from her childhood about winters with her clan, building forts out of snow and homes out of ice, all of which sounded impossible to him, because it was just frozen water, how could you even  _ do _ that?

He wanted to see snow. He wanted to build an ice house and make a snowman and catch flakes on his tongue and do all the things that Yasha told him about. But all they ever got was rain.

It wasn’t as if Molly disliked the rain. Rain was important, it brought water and helped the crops grow and was necessary for life to thrive in the Dynasty, as his mother would say. It meant there were puddles to splash in, too, which was an added bonus. But this wasn’t the welcome and much needed rains of summer, or the first rains of spring that welcomed in the new season and fed young crops. No, this was winter rain, cold and grey and persistent. They alternated between days of fine misting and light showers, to wet and foggy days that felt heavy and oppressive, to downpours, cracks of thunder breaking the monotonous pattern of water hitting snow. It wasn’t the sort of weather that one could go out and enjoy life in...it was miserable weather that would, like clockwork, take Yasha away from him and leave him friendless and alone in the palace.

“You promise you’ll call every day, right?” he asked, trying his best not to sound like a petulant child. It had been like this for as long as he’d known Yasha. Every winter, the rain would come, and with it the storms, calling Yasha to wherever her god desired her to go. She always called, and she always came back, but...it was nice to know for sure. To get that affirmation she wasn’t leaving him for good.

Yasha gave him one of her small, secretive smiles. “Of course I will, my prince.” He made a face at the title, and she laughed softly, knowing how much he disliked the titles and formality. It wasn’t like  _ he _ was the prince, not really. That was Lucien, or, as he preferred to think of him, That Asshole.

“Yash, please don’t call me that. It’s just us right now.” He crossed his arms and gave her a look, which just made her smile grow. “How many times do I need to tell you, it’s Molly to my friends, and you’re my dearest friend?”

“At least one more, my pr--Molly.” His eyes narrowed and she laughed again. “Sorry.”

He gave her his best Royal Glare for a brief moment before grinning at her, laughing. “Gods, I’m gonna miss you while you’re gone. Do you know where He’s sending you this time?”

“Not quite,” she admitted. “Somewhere to the north, though. If I go anywhere particularly interesting, I’ll bring you back a souvenir, though.”

“And photos! Lots of photos,” he added. It was the only way he’d ever get to actually  _ see _ any of the Dynasty, at this rate, and Yasha had an eye for photography.

“And photos,” she agreed. 

They were in his quarters of the palace, away from the rest of the guard and his other handlers, tucked away in the only corner of the world that was truly his and his alone. Zuala was back in the guard barracks, packing the rest of her and Yasha’s things, and as soon as she texted Yasha, his best friend would be off once again. He understood it, to a certain degree. This had to be as much of a cage for her as it was for him. He never asked her what it had been like, back when she’d been one of Lucien’s guards, and she never told him. He assumed that, back then, she’d had more freedom of movement, to come and go as she pleased, and her annual pilgrimage may not have been the great escape it was now. But he didn’t want to know for sure.

“You will be alright, by yourself here?” she asked, sitting down on his bed next to him, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. “I will try not to be gone too long, but...you know how it is.”

“I do,” he said with a sigh, leaning against her. “I’ll miss you, and it’ll certainly be boring here without you, but I’ll be fine.”

She smiled, moving to stroke his hair as he curled his tail around her ankle. “You’re going to sneak out again, aren’t you.”

Molly grinned and gave a quick nod. “How else can I keep the other guards on their toes?”

“Your mother won’t be happy if you get in trouble again.”

“Pfft. Ma’ll only find out if I get caught! And have I been caught yet, darling?”

Her silence spoke volumes.

“...Okay, so I’ve been caught a few times. But honestly, what does she expect me to do, stay here for the rest of my life?”

“She worries, Molly, that’s all,” Yasha said. “She doesn’t want to lose you.”

The ‘again’ went unspoken. Molly knew she was right, or at least partially right. The Bright Queen had already lost one son to his own stupidity, she wasn’t going to let her second chance just swan off and do whatever he felt like. She meant well, he knew that. Even if her rules seemed almost draconian at times, even if he was suffocating in his isolation, his loneliness.

“She’s not going to lose me, Yash. I’m not  _ him _ ,” he said, his voice taking a hard edge at the thought of being compared to That Asshole. “It’s been three years, she should know that at this point!”

“Three years probably doesn’t seem very long to her,” Yasha reasoned. And she was right, Molly admitted, three years wasn’t a long time in a life that had lasted centuries. But  _ still _ , it wasn’t fair, he wasn’t going to go off and do anything like what That Asshole had (if any of the stories he read in the old tabloids Zuala smuggled in for him were true). He just wanted to go have fun! Live life! Actually see the people he was supposed to govern someday! How was he going to be a good ruler if he never left the damned palace? What did she think he was going to do, run off and join the circus?

Well...that  _ was _ tempting...but alas, no, not in this life. He sighed dramatically, flopping into Yasha’s lap. “I just want to be able to go out and see things without having to be watched or followed, like you do!”

She nodded sympathetically, but before she could respond, a buzzing noise came from the phone in her pocket, catching her attention. They both knew it was Zuala. Molly moved to get off of Yasha, giving her space as she got up, looked at her phone, and nodded to him. Time to go, then.

They said their goodbyes, Molly extracting another promise of regular calls and photos from Yasha, they hugged (perhaps a bit longer than was socially acceptable, given their respective statuses, but fuck status and propriety), and he saw her off, down the hall and out of his sight. And Molly was, once more, left alone.

He sighed, lying back down on his bed, trying to figure out what he should do now. He wanted nothing more than to put on his most hideous coat and sneak out, to go and do card readings on the street or hang out in the nearby cafe and swap stories with the owner (Mister Clay had the  _ weirdest _ stories, Molly thought he was fascinating), to just go and  _ live _ for a little bit before he had to get back to struggling through whatever assignments Essek had left him.

Gods, he’d almost forgotten he was supposed to be getting a new tutor, too. As if Essek wasn’t bad enough. He did his best, he really did, and Essek was inhumanly patient, but he was never one for academics. Whatever had happened with That Asshole had made reading more difficult than it needed to be, he didn’t focus well, and he had a whole lifetime of facts and history and laws and information he needed to relearn, none of which came easy or (thankfully) jogged any old memories. Save for Essek, he’d been through several tutors, none of whom were willing or able to deal with him and his difficulties.

Well, he’d also done his best to drive them all mad, too, so it wasn’t like they were the entire problem. They were just so  _ boring _ and unwilling to actually listen to him.

He almost felt bad for whoever the new guy was. Another pompous, snooty know it all, who would look at Molly and immediately judge him a fool. He wondered how long this one would last, before they got fed up with him.

He groaned, rolling over and burying his head into his pillow. He didn’t want to think about that now, not when there were still so many other things he could do. He could sneak down into the kitchens, or try to listen in to Ma’s meetings with the Den leaders, or go bug Essek...or…

“Fuck it,” he muttered into his pillow, before rolling off his bed and heading for the closet. 

It sounded like there was a lull in the rain at the moment, and he’d rather risk getting into trouble for sneaking out again than do any of the things he was actually supposed to. Donning his favorite ugly jacket, he did a quick once over in the mirror. The coat was garish and distracting, drawing enough attention away from his face that anyone who looked at him wouldn’t begin to guess who he actually was. After all, did  _ Prince Lucien _ wear hideous maroon monstrosities covered in patches and embroidery? Did  _ Lucien _ deign to step out among the commoners, dressed like one of them?

As far as the Dynasty was concerned, the prince had become a recluse following his ‘accident’, and until the Bright Queen deemed Molly ready, it was going to stay that way. Which suited him just fine, as he quietly crept down the halls towards one of the old secret passages out of the castle. It gave him a little more freedom outside, if nothing else.

With a small grin on his face, Mollymauk slipped through the passage and into the cool afternoon air. The day was his, and nobody, not his mother or his other guards or his future asshole tutor, was going to tell him what to do.

\----

As far as job interviews went, it had been one of the...stranger ones that Caleb had ever gone through. Nothing was necessarily  _ wrong _ , or out of place, and the questions asked had been fairly standard ones. The whole process, though...something about it had felt off. Rushed. For starters, given the nature of the position, he assumed he would have been speaking with a few different people, ones associated with the archives and library of the palace mostly, and then with whoever was in charge of the education of the prince. He wasn’t so arrogant as to assume he would be speaking with the prince or anyone higher up in the chain of royalty directly, but he would have thought they’d at least have made an appearance. Instead, the interview seemed to only care about the education of the prince. He spoke with his other tutor, a man named Essek, who asked questions about what he could offer in terms of educational experience, how he felt about splitting duties with him..the archives came up, but they seemed like more of an afterthought. He had no idea what to make of the whole process.

Still, he must have done something right, as Essek had given him an unreadable smile, nodded, and told him he started in the archives tomorrow. “We’ll work out a rotation schedule for dealing with the prince,” he’d said, before Caleb had a chance to ask any further questions. And that was that. He still wasn’t sure what to think about it. The job itself was, as Beau said, a perfect fit, but the interview had set him on edge, as had the lack of concrete information, and while he’d said yes to the job (he’d be a fool to turn the opportunity down), he still needed some guidance.

So, Caleb decided to text Nott on his way home. It had stopped raining briefly, right around the time he’d left for his interview, but it seemed to have picked up again. He sighed, propped his umbrella on his shoulder, and did his best to text his closest friend one-handed, looking up from his phone frequently to make sure he didn’t walk into anyone.

Yes, it would have been easier to call her, and Caleb would have preferred to hear her voice and talk the situation out with her, as opposed to the almost robotic nature of texting, but there were time zone differences to consider, as well as the fact that Nott had her own life to live. As much as she enjoyed mothering him, she had her own son to look after (last he’d heard, Luc had expressed interest in archery lessons and was still trying to sneak their dog to school with him, so her hands were fairly full).

_ C: So I have a job now. _

A few minutes passed before his phone buzzed again, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he looked down once more.

_ N: CALEB!!! When did this happen? What is it? Did Beau finally finish getting the archives set up or did you find something else? Have you started? Tell me everything AAH I AM SO PROUD OF YOU _

_ C: This just happened, I am working in the palace archives and will be one of the prince’s tutors, Beauregard is still caught up in the political negotiations but thought this would do me well in the meantime, and I start tomorrow. Thank you for the enthusiasm; it still feels a bit unreal. _

_ N:The palace archives? Oh, that’s perfect for you, you’re going to do a wonderf---wait. _

_ N: Tutor the prince? As in Prince LUCIEN? The prince of scandals and tabloids? Oh,  _ Caleb, _ how did that happen? _

_ C: They came hand in hand. To work the archives, one must be willing to teach the prince. It is a small price, and perhaps it won’t be too bad. _

He glanced up, the sound of rain hitting the umbrella filling his ears. The sky had darkened a bit, and he wondered if they were due to get some lightning, or if it was perhaps later than he thought (his knack for knowing the time didn’t always translate well across time zones, he’d learned). Nott hadn’t responded yet, probably composing a long response about how he shouldn’t have to settle, about how he was better than what was a glorified babysitting job, or she’d gotten distracted by her family. Either way, he moved to put his phone back into his pocket, trying to figure out his next move, when--

\--his back impacted against the pavement with a splash, his umbrella flying from his hands, a sharp pain blooming along his side where he fell. Groaning, he blinked, trying to figure out what exactly he’d walked into like a complete loon. His umbrella hadn’t fallen too far, and his phone was in his pocket, safe and (presumably) undamaged, and as Caleb moved to get up, back still aching, he heard a voice.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay? I wasn’t looking where I was going, and...aw, jeez, are you alright? Here, lemme give you a hand…”

A lavender hand was suddenly thrust into his vision, and he took it, slowly getting to his feet with a wince. “No, no, it was my fault, I too busy looking at my phone to pay attention, I am the one who sh--should…”

Standing in front of him, still holding his hand with an awkward grin, was the most attractive individual Caleb had ever seen.

They were a lavender tiefling, adorned head to toe in jewelry and tattoos, with laughingly bright red eyes that locked with his, the smile on their face growing more confident and cocky by the second. They were completely soaked, as if they’d been in the rain all day, their maroon coat (which threatened to completely capture Caleb’s attention with its myriad of designs and colors) dripping onto the pavement. Yet, in spite of that, they looked as if they hadn’t a care in the world, letting go of his hand with an almost visible reluctance.

They stared at each other for a moment longer, the words seeming to elude Caleb as he tried to pick up his previous thought. “I...as I was saying, it was my fault, and seeing as how there is no damage done, there is nothing for either of us to apologize for,  _ ja _ ?”

The tiefling laughed, a beautiful sound, before sticking their hands back into his pockets with a wet squelching noise (how long had he  _ been _ out here for?). “Well, that’s good, I guess! Glad you’re alright, I’d hate to see a handsome face like yours get damaged because of my carelessness!”

Caleb let out a choking sound, which just made the tiefling laugh harder. “I’m Mollymauk. Molly to my friends, and what better way to make a new friend than plowing them down in the street?” 

“Ah..Caleb.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Caleb! I would say I wish it was under better circumstances, but I do think the circumstances just got better, so!”

Good gods, he was smooth. Caleb just blinked at him, unable to string together a coherent thought, just wanting to hear what the tiefling--Mollymauk-- _ Molly _ \--would say next. And yet, he knew he had to say something. If he didn’t, if the conversation ended, Molly would likely say something else damnably charming and walk away, out of Caleb’s life forever. He glanced quickly down at the ground, at the umbrella he was still holding in one hand, trailing against the pavement. Without thinking, he quickly thrust it into Molly’s hand. “Here. You, ah...it may not do much good at this point, I’m afraid, but you look as if you could use it. Consider it an apology for...how did you say it…’plowing’ into you?”

Molly blinked, the smile gone and replaced with a look of surprise as he took the umbrella, and Caleb wondered if he’d done the right thing. Gods, what if he’d insulted him somehow? But before he could apologize for making assumptions, Molly’s smile was back, softer, more genuine, beautiful in a way that made his heart ache. 

“My hero,” he said, sounding almost genuine. “It wasn’t raining when I went out, so I forgot mine...silly me, like it  _ ever _ really stops raining here. Either way, thank you, Caleb. Let me get you a coffee or something?”

“Wh-ah, that’s not necessary, really--”

“No, please! Consider it both an apology and thanks for your heroic sacrifice to save me from this abysmal weather. I won’t take no for an answer,” he said, moving to stand by Caleb’s side, looping his arm around his and pulling him under the umbrella. “And this way, we both stay a little drier! I know a great place down the street that has an  _ excellent _ Whitestone Fog latte.”

He was about to argue some more, say that it wasn’t necessary, that they probably both had places to be...but Caleb thought about it. Apart from Beauregard, he really didn’t know anyone in Rosohna, at least not on a personal level. And while he had been satisfied to keep it that way, something about Molly’s presence made him think that he was a person worth getting to know a bit better. Somebody Caleb wanted to spend more time with, as mad as it sounded.

So instead of fighting it, he sighed, gesturing for Molly to lead the way. “This wouldn’t happen to be the Blooming Grove Cafe you’re referring to, would it?”

Molly grinned and nodded. “The very same! I assume you’re familiar with Cad’s special blends then? That man has a gift when it comes to tea, I swear, and one of these days I’m going to get him to spill his secret…”

Caleb nodded and smiled a little, feeling oddly light with each step, content to let Molly do most of the talking as they made their way towards Caduceus’s shop. There were some brief back and forths, the flirting (for that was what it was, he couldn’t deny it no matter how much he wished to) coming to him easily, talking with Molly feeling as simple and natural to him as breathing. It had been a very, very long time since he’d felt that way talking to another person. And in no time at all, the two of them were settled in the cafe, lattes in hand, watching the rain as it continued to drizzle outside.

“So, Caleb,” Molly said, sipping at his beverage, “tell me more about yourself. I feel like I’ve been doing all the talking, and normally that’s fine by me, but I’m curious about  _ you _ .”

Caleb shrugged. “There is not much to tell, truly. I have only been in the Dynasty for a few months, and I have not had much of a chance to do much apart from settle in and find work.”

“Oh? What do you do, then?”

“Well...a friend of mine came here to set up a research institution, and I came along with her. But that project has stalled,” he sighed, “due to political reasons, I assume, and so I got a job working at a library. I start tomorrow.”

Given the nature of his new job, it seemed like it would be wise to be more...obtuse about the details. It was going to involve direct contact with the royal family, after all, and he wasn’t sure what the security was there, or what protocol would be required of him. Molly, for his part, didn’t press for details, nodding and smiling a bit. 

“New city, new job..that doesn’t sound so bad to me, Mister Caleb. And you said there was nothing to tell. A librarian...you must really like books then?”

Caleb chuckled, his face lighting up a bit. “You could say that. I have always been a fan of learning, and books...they provide  _ so many _ possibilities. There are stories that take one to far off worlds, different places and times...One could travel from here to the Menagerie Coast to Emon and back with a book, one could hear tales of legendary adventurers and gods and monsters, good and evil, and that’s just the fiction stories! The true life tales are so much stranger, so much more captivating, because they really happened...history books that explain how we got to where we are, that make the past come to life, that help us with our grip on the present….science and magic, how we can shape our world, the forces behind life and power and, and there is just so much to learn! There are things in the Dynasty that we would never begin to cover back in the Empire, and to have the opportunity to help others with that knowledge, to grow and change and become  _ better _ because of it…”

He trailed off, blushing a bit. Once again, he’d gotten carried away, off on a tangent about something he was sure couldn’t interest Molly. But the tiefling seemed to be listening to him intently, head resting in his hand, a small, rapt smile on his face.

“The way you talk about books, Mister Caleb...it makes me wish I was more of a reader,” he said wistfully. “To be able to go to those places you talk about, to learn those things...it sounds nice.”

Caleb smiled again, the blush still coloring his cheeks. “I can always recommend books to you, if you’d like.”

Molly nodded. “Tell me more about those legendary adventurers? Maybe one of those books could hold me for more than five minutes.”

He wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed there, Caleb telling him about different books in different genres that he thought might interest his new friend, Molly asking questions and dropping witty commentary in from time to time. At one point, he felt his phone buzz, but ignored it, knowing that Nott would understand and forgive him for not being punctual in responding. Molly even pulled his own phone out at one point, insisting on exchanging numbers and making a list of the titles Caleb recommended him. It was, as he noted before, easy and natural to talk to Molly, and he wondered (he hoped) that Molly felt the same. He had to, to humor Caleb for as long as he had. At some point, they moved from books to talking about other things once more, discussing their friends, what they all did, their other interests, and of course, the dismally wet winter weather.

Caleb was describing to Molly his theory for why the weather in the Dynasty’s capital tended to be wetter and more temperate in the winter than the rest of the Dynasty when he noticed his friend’s attention waning, his eyes going to something behind Caleb and widening. Before Caleb could ask him what was wrong, Molly’s face lit up and he bolted out of his chair and out of the store. Caleb blinked, a bit taken aback by the sudden turn of events, turning around to see what had captured Molly’s attention so suddenly…

…only to see that at some point, it had started to snow.

The first snow in Rosohna in decades.

Now, that  _ was _ something worth running into the street for, he thought, watching as Molly stood, wide eyed and smiling, staring up into the sky with wonder as the flakes fell around him, catching in his hair and on his coat, leaving him glittering with white.

He sat there for a moment or two, just watching. Taking in the clear joy and delight in Molly’s face for, what he assumed, had to be his first snowfall. He could see him laughing, holding his arms out wide and spinning around, trying to catch the flakes as they fell. He would have been content to watch forever, the excitement and happiness in Molly’s every movement enough to sustain him, but it seemed his technicolor friend had other plans, rushing back into the store and grabbing Caleb’s arm with a laugh, dragging him out into the frigid air.

“Look, Caleb!! It’s snowing!!” Molly said, laughing and spinning again. “It’s really snowing! Can you believe it? It  _ never _ snows here, you were  _ just _ telling me why it never snows, and then it does? How amazing is that? How amazing is this!” he gestured up at the grey sky, at the flakes starting to stick to the ground. 

Caleb smiled a little, trying to ignore the warm feeling burning slowly and comfortably in his chest. “ _ Ja _ , it really is something.”

“You know, I’ve never seen snow before?” Molly said, tilting his head back. “I’ve just heard about it, and I guess seen pictures, but that doesn’t really count, does it? I thought I’d never see snow, not for real…”

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to take Molly’s hand, to squeeze it and draw his attention back towards him. Maybe it was the way he’d lost himself to the joy of his first snow, maybe it was the way he’d humored Caleb in the cafe, or just been so funny and kind and compelling in a way he couldn’t describe. Their eyes locked.

“Come out with me tomorrow,” Caleb blurted, face red. “After I get out of work. Get a hot chocolate with me, or another Whitestone Fog. If it keeps up like this, the snow will have accumulated, and you can really appreciate it then.”

Molly just stared at him for a moment before grinning, reminding Caleb of Frumpkin when presented with a bowl of cream. “Mister Caleb, are you asking me out on a date?”

“I...ah, I suppose I am.”

His cheshire cat grin grew as he leaned in close, lips brushing briefly against Caleb’s cheek. “Consider this a yes.”

Caleb didn’t know it was possible for one person to get so red. Breathing heavily, the nerves returning as the realization of what he just did finally hitting him, he nodded. “Yes, ah. Good, okay, then, I will...I will text you tomorrow, then. I look forward to it.”

And before he could say something else, something stupid, or give Molly an opening to turn him into an even greater fool, he fled, looking back once to Molly standing in the snow, giving him a quick wave as he hurried down the street and back to the apartment he shared with Beauregard.

It wasn’t until he was home and checking the barrage of texts that Nott had left him did he realize: he had forgotten the umbrella, back in the cafe.

He only hoped Molly remembered to grab it. Snow could be just as cold as rain, after all.

\----

Normally, the first day without Yasha was one that Molly despaired. Every time she left, he’d spend the next day trying to stay in bed as long as possible, as if sleeping and hiding from the world would change the weather, bring his friend back to him sooner, make the life he’d found himself stuck in easier. He usually slept like crap the night of her departure, too, which didn’t help things.

It was surprising for him to have rested so well, buoyed by beautiful dreams of handsome red headed book lovers and snowflakes and hot chocolate and secret dates. He’d woken up early, bright eyed and bushy tailed (his tail couldn’t stop moving, he was so excited), and he was determined to have a good day in the palace, so that when he snuck out later to meet up with Caleb for their date (date! He had a date!!), it would be far easier for him to ask for forgiveness than for permission to go out.

Molly sat on his bed, tail flicking, unable to stop himself from smiling. He couldn’t believe he’d actually met somebody, somebody who didn’t seem to recognize him or, if he did, didn’t care. Somebody who was handsome and smart and funny (in a dry sort of way, but it still counted), who was passionate about what he did, who didn’t immediately dismiss Molly’s disinterest in books in spite of his own love for them...somebody who wanted to help him get over that gap, not with textbooks and history scrolls, but with things that would actually engage him, make the effort of reading feel worth it.

“Caleb,” he said to himself, giggling a bit. Mister Caleb, who was so easy to get worked up and flustered, who seemed determined to roll with everything Molly threw at him despite it.

Having an afternoon with Caleb almost made the prospect of meeting people in court today worth it. Almost.

Almost as soon as he’d snuck back in last night (successfully, as far as he could tell), Essek had come to fetch him, bringing him to speak with his mother over dinner, as he did every night. The Bright Queen had been in a fairly good mood, asking him about his day and what he’d been up to, how had Yasha and Zuala been before they left, the standard questions. He made up some half truths and some pretty bullshit, and if she didn’t believe him, she didn’t say anything. It was awkward, as it always was, but she was trying. She didn’t call him Lucien, hadn’t called him that for a long time now, and even with the restrictions she’d put in place, she was still attempting to give him some freedom in his gilded cage.

It was hard to stay irritated with her when she wanted so badly for them to get along. 

Even after she mentioned having a meeting with a new archivist, somebody who would take care of the Dynasty’s older and more protected works, even after she mentioned that they’d be his new tutor in addition to Essek, even after telling him that yes, he had to meet them tomorrow and no, he couldn’t drive this one away, they’d given him a second job specifically  _ so _ Molly couldn’t get rid of him easily. It was a lot, and it made him feel...he wasn’t sure. Irritated? Angry? Stupid? He didn’t know. But he knew that, deep down, she was doing this because she loved him, Molly, the son she had now, and that this wasn’t a last ditch effort to get Lucien back.

So he’d nodded, said more pretty words and shot off some carnival smiles, and tried to ignore the pit in his stomach at the prospect of meeting another new tutor who would look at him with pity and make him feel like an idiot, focusing only Caleb’s face as he’d asked Molly out.

So, he had that to look forward to today, after getting through formal royal nonsense. Maybe, the sooner he did that, the sooner he’d be left alone to sneak off and contact Caleb. Maybe he’d get to see the snow with him sooner.

He got up, dressing himself in a manner befitting his station (though he couldn’t help but wear that tight shirt with the open chest that  _ technically _ was part of a royal wardrobe, to show off his tattoos. Just because he never wore it with the cravat didn’t mean he was completely breaking dress code), running a comb through the worst of his purple locks, and headed out to meet this new tutor.

The Cathedral was already busy when he pushed through one of the side doors, Essek in deep conversation with a woman in blue, his mother sitting in her throne, surrounded by the other den leaders, and off standing awkwardly in a corner…

...Was Caleb.

He hadn’t seemed to notice Molly yet, glancing back and forth between the main entrance and the woman in blue (who looked really familiar, had he seen her here before?), his expression hard to read. Molly wondered for a moment what the  _ hell _ Caleb was doing here. Did...did he know who Molly was? Was that why he was here, he’d realized he’d been flirting with the prince and had come to confess his sin, or, or--

Their conversation from yesterday in the cafe came back to him. 

_ “So what sort of library do you work at?” _

_ “Well, I have not started yet, but it is a small, private institution...I am to tutor the owner’s son part time, in addition to my other duties there.” _

_ “Huh. That doesn’t sound so bad, though it doesn’t make a lot of sense, right? You’d be so busy with one job that you couldn’t do the other.” _

_ “That is my concern...truthfully, I think that my supervisor has had difficulties keeping educators for their son, so the only way they can ensure that somebody will stick around is to tie the two jobs together.” _

_ “I bet the kid is a real brat, then, if he keeps going through teachers like that.” _

_ “From what I have heard? I suspect you may be right...but we’ll see.” _

Well, fuck. Caleb had been so vague about the whole thing, not dropping names or locations, that he hadn’t put it together, but seeing him now, it all made sense.

_ He _ was the brat who kept driving teachers away. Which meant that Caleb...Caleb was his new tutor.

The situation was insane. It was like something out of a bad made-for-tv movie, or a soap opera. Molly couldn’t help but laugh loudly at the whole madness that, apparently, was his life, and suddenly, all eyes were on him.

Including Caleb’s.

He watched as the man’s jaw dropped, his face paling slightly at seeing Molly standing near the throne, the realization in his eyes as he put the pieces together. It would be funny, if he didn’t want to go over there and kiss that look off his face. Which, he couldn’t do, because his mother was  _ right there _ , standing up and gesturing to him with a smile.

“Mollymauk, you’ve decided to join us,” the Bright Queen said, her tone easy and commanding in equal measures. “Your timing is perfect, your new tutor is here and I’d like for the two of you to get acquainted.” Her voice dropped, so only Molly could hear her, though she was still smiling brightly for the court. “You’re  _ not _ allowed to drive this one away, he’s going to be working on the archives while we establish ties with the Cobalt Soul and if I hear you’ve put  _ one toe _ out of line…”

“Don’t worry,” Molly said, locking eyes with Caleb and giving him a wide yet formal smile, waving a little, loving the way he blushed and looked away. “I’ll be good.”

Well, it depended on ones definition of ‘good’...he strode down the stairs to face Caleb properly, holding his hand out to the other man with a smile.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf. Molly to my friends, and I think you and I are going to be  _ very _ good friends.” He lowered his voice, giving Caleb a wink as the other man stiffly took his hand. “Are we still on for hot chocolate later? You forgot your umbrella, so I need to give it back to you either way…”

Caleb’s grip relaxed a bit. He glanced up quickly at the Bright Queen before back to Molly, who was looking at him expectantly, before giving him a quick nod and a barely there smile.

Molly’s grin could have lit up the room, and as they let go, all he could think was that he was going to have so  _ much _ to tell Yasha when she got back...


End file.
